I miss the sense of space. The way you can drive for miles on straight roads where the only variation in the scenery is the swapping of cornfields for soybean fields. I miss the wide stretches of sky. I miss the energy of a young country exploring its cultural identity separate from her parent society. A country still trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to be when she grows up. I miss front porches and screen doors that slap you in the ass if you don’t get out quick enough. Also rootbeer.

Then something like Aurora, Colorado happens and that screen door smacks me in the face.

When my Yorkshire high school students learn I am American, one of the first questions they ask me is “Did you live in Florida?” followed…